Wednesday 21 October 2009

Carlisle: Tourist in my "home town"

Walking into town, I can here a drum beat. In front of me a crowd has formed. A man taps his feet to the rhythm, children dance and a woman with small blue hand prints over her eyes sets down a pink blanket and pulls out more face paints.

I continue through the busy town centre and see the Guildhall Museum. After two years of living here, this is the first time I have noticed it, tucked away next to an Italian restaurant. Inside I explore the small rooms, learning about the city’s history. The floor creaks under my feet as I move around the space that housed merchants, butchers and shoemakers.

Back outside people are enjoying the rare autumn sunshine, sipping coffee and reading the paper.

I follow the signs to the cathedral and the city becomes almost far away as birds sing, interrupting the peaceful silence of the cathedral grounds yellow and orange with leaves littering the floor. Again I see people enjoying the sunshine, giving the city a small town feel.


Across the cobbled street and under the subway leads me to the castle, a landmark I have walked past a hundred times and never wanted to see. But today I am a tourist and need to explore.


I pay my fee and climb the stone steps to a room where music familiar to a medieval banquet plays. The floor creaks as I wander around the castle, a sound familiar in many of the city’s tourist attractions.

I follow the steps down stairs to the dungeon, but after about five seconds my fear of the dark gets the better of me and I have to leave, walking quickly out into the open air, glad that things have moved on from the days of being held captive and that being considered normal behaviour.

After some time spent exploring the castle, learning about it as a fortress back in the day and the fact that Richard the third had once stayed there (alright for some) I return to the city.

Down one of the many lanes I find Ruby Blue Vintage. Inside it’s like stepping back in time. Music from days gone by plays and I’m surrounded by clothes and accessories I would have once found in my mum’s or even my Nan’s wardrobe. Vintage brooches sit alongside beautiful chunky cameras that don’t come with a screen on the back. Magic.


I leave, stepping outside, back into Treasury Court spying a milkshake bar. It’s funny how I’ve never noticed this before, and tempted as I am to try one of their hundreds of flavours, sadly I have no change. Maybe next time I think as I carry on back in to the crazy buzzing city, it’s quite a shock really after so much peace and quiet.

Now that I’m back in the modern world, I trek down to Shelter, probably my favourite charity shop and spot one of those beautiful old fashioned cameras. I can’t resist having a look, but the assistant doesn’t seem to be familiar with customers asking questions and her face looks blank as I ask her how it works.

Out of nowhere, a man appears and talks me step by step through how to use this almost antique piece of equipment. I can see why people are so keen on the new lightweight cameras that are so popular now as the camera in my hand is almost brick like and I wonder how I will ever hold it still enough to take a picture. But I’m sold, I have to have it. And all of a sudden, my camera guide has disappeared again.

My day as a tourist is over and I snap back into a resident leaving my sight seeing head behind me. Carlisle may not have a great reputation but the quirky mix of history, culture and modern day life actually make for quite a good day out.

Friday 16 October 2009

Kiss me quick, I like it like that.

My itchy feet led me to Blackpool, looking to discover the hidden culture. According to Rough Guide, it does exist.



After a 2 hour journey, me and Paul arrived in “The Vegas of the North”, desperate to get out and stretch our legs. This didn’t happen for another 45 minutes, apparently everybody had the same idea, and finding a parking space was like finding a needle in a haystack!
Eventually we found a space and headed off to discover the town. Strolling through the shopping centre and into the lift…Crash..Laughter..Pain! In my desperate attempts to go exploring, I didn’t realise the lift door had already decided to close, body slamming me and causing me and Paul to burst out laughing and the poor lady in the lift trying to hide her laughter behind her hand.

So, where to go first? Outside on the street, pirates walk from bar to bar, girls dressed up as pink ladies discuss where to go next and a group of sailors make themselves heard as they come singing round the corner. Only in Blackpool is this normal behaviour at three in the afternoon.

We wander onto the pier, screams of joy and the mechanical whirring of the rides in the air. We buy our tokens and climb inside the carriage of the big wheel.
“I don’t like this!” Paul tells me all of a sudden, “I’m scared of heights.” This is maybe not the best time to let me know this, as the wheel rotates and we rise up in to the sky, he sits dead still as I take in the view. However, as the wind starts to rock the carriage slightly, I start to regret it myself.


Back on safe ground, we take a walk…a long walk…the longest walk I’ve ever taken in my life to the south shore, towards the Pleasure Beach. We hear a bell ring and realise if we don’t move quickly, we will be hit by a tram. Along the way, the pavements are crowded, families walk alongside men in the traditional uniform of the stag parties (t-shirts with nicknames like Salsa Simon), fish and chip shops line the street and I wonder, do they eat anything else here?

As we finally reach the Pleasure Beach, the rides rise up; whooshing past, reminding me of the last time I was here with my family.

My dad and I were strapped into the tango ice blast, one of those horrible rides that makes your stomach jump up into your mouth and your eyes stream tears. As we dropped at a ridiculous speed, my dad, knuckles white from gripping the safety harness, screams “I want my mum!” I’m not going through that again!

Me and Paul wonder off to the South Shore pier to play on the amusements. What is it about those damn machines that makes you think if you just put one more pound in you’ll win the soft toy you’ve been trying so desperately to grab? Eventually, our enthusiasm pays off, and Paul grabs a sweet little grey teddy bear for me, it may have been a lot cheaper to buy one from a shop, but where is the excitement in that eh?

All of a sudden, it seems even brighter. Turning around, I see that the street is lit up with the famous Blackpool Illuminations, all around us, everything looks so pretty. Coming along the tram line is a train, covered in lights, the disco tram! Again, typically Blackpool.


We decide to wander back towards town, have a quick stroll past the fountain and try to find the car. Hmm, the shopping centre is locked; we’ll have to go round the back. Only the back seems to be another 3 mile walk! But we walk any way; didn’t we pass that a minute a go? Oh my god if we have to turn left here…yep that’s where we just came from, oh god we are back where we started, we could have walked five steps but no we took the long way. It isn’t an adventure if me and Paul don’t get lost; it’s all part of the fun.

So finally, back to car, sit down and rest. We came here looking for culture, but the thing is, Blackpool’s culture is the tacky, kiss me quick bold and over the top. It wouldn’t be Blackpool otherwise. It is the way it is and that’s the best thing about it.

By the beach in Brighton

There's something about an old fashioned carousel that I love. The music, the colour. It's magic.

I took these photo's with my old film camera. I love the way the came out looking so vintage.





Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...